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Vol.  VII 


JULY— SEPTEMBER,  1921 


Nuiyfeet  4 


Published  by  Randolph-Macon  Woman’s  CoH^ie  j 
ISSUED  QUARTERLY 


0 


ISS'o 


BULLETIN  OF 

RANDOLPH-MACON 
WOMAN’S  COLLEGE 

LYNCHBURG,  VA. 


The  Hidden  Springs  and  Currents 
of  Mental  Life 


BY 


Professor  L.  R.  GEISSLER,  Ph.  D. 


Entered  as  aecond-cUss  matter  January  5,  1915.  at  the  Postoflice  at  Lynchburg,  Virginia, 
under  the  Act  of  August  24,  I9I2> 


/ 


BULLETIN 


8f 

RANDOLPH -MACON 
WOMAN’S  COLLEGE 


The  Hidden  Springs  and  Currents 
of  Mental  Life 

BY 

Professor  L.  R.  GEISSLER,  Ph.  D. 


Published  by  Randolph-Macon  Woman’s  College 
Lynchburg,  Va. 


■ ^ M 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2017  with  funding  from 

University  of  Illinois  Urbana-Champaign  Alternates 


https://archive.org/details/hiddenspringscurOOgeis 


The  Hidden  Springs  and  Currents 
of  Mental  Life.* 

By  Professor  L.  R.  Ueissler,  Pii.  D. 

When  speaking  of  the  “stream  of  mental  life”  i)syehologists 
usually  have  reference  to  the  transitory  nature  of  our  eonseions 
exi)erienees,  comparing  them  to  the  waves  and  ripples  on  the 
surface  of  the  water.  But  there  is  a much  deeper  and  more  fruit- 
ful way  in  which  mental  life  may  be  compared  to  a stream  that 
springs  from  a hillside,  winds  its  way  through  fertile  valleys,  and 
finally  joins  its  waters  to  the  fathomless  ocean,  a comparison 
which  enables  ns  not  only  to  invoke  many  close  and  suggestive 
analogies,  but  also  to  gain  a synthetic  view  of  the  whole  of  human 
life  and  to  come  to  a clearer  and  fuller  understanding  of  some 
of  its  baffling  intricacies. 

Where,  for  example,  is  the  real  beginning  of  the  stream? 
Certainly  not  where  its  cool,  clear  waters  for  the  first  time  re- 
flect the  rays  of  light,  but  hidden  deep  in  the  dark  crevices  of 
the  mountain  side  where  drops  meet  drops  and,  following  the 
law  of  gravity,  trickle  down  their  devious  paths  until  they  have 
gathered  enough  mass  and  force  to  break  through  the  earthen 
cnist.  In  like  manner  the  first  beginning  of  the  stream  of  mental 
life  is  forever  hidden  from  our  view.  Biology  leads  ns  to  assume 
that  both,  ova  and  spermatozoa,  are  endowed  with  original  vital 
energy  or  force  or  whatever  it  may  be  called,  but  that  is  not 
equivalent  to  what  is  meant  by  “mental  life.”  Does  it  then 
begin  with  the  process  of  fertilization?  Or  does  it  not  appear 
until  the  first  signs  of  neural  tissue  are  traceable  in  the  embryo? 
Or  is  it  dormant  until  a still  later  stage,  when  the  first  indepen- 
dent movements  are  ol)servable?  It  seems  almost  certain  that 
some  sort  of  mental  life  is  present  before  birth,  if  we  do  not 
limit  the  term  “mental  life”  to  more  or  less  clear  and  itemized 
consciousness. 


*Incorporating  parts  of  a paper  read  before  the  Woman's  Club  of 
Lyiic'hbiirg,  Va. 


4 


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In  order  to  understand  the  fuller  significance  of  the  term 
“mental  life”  we  shall  again  employ  the  analogy  of  the  stream 
and  refer  to  its  three  parts,  namely  its  bed,  its  currents  of  flow- 
ing water,  and  the  invisible,  but  none  the  less  real  and  constantly 
rising  and  spreading  vapors  of  humidity.  These  three  parts 
correspond  to  the  three  aspects  of  mental  life,  namely  the  ner- 
vous system,  the  subconscious  tendencies  and  dispositions,  and 
consciousness. 

The  bed  of  the  stream  of  mental  life  is  the  whole  nervous 
system,  including  the  spinal  cord  and  the  brain  as  well  as  the 
numberless  microscopically  small  ramifications  of  nerve-fibres 
found  in  all  parts  of  the  human  body.  These  anatomical  struc- 
tures are  readily  observed  and  measured  with  delicate  scientific 
instruments  and  their  locations  mapped  out,  just  as  geographical 
explorers  locate  new  rivers  on  the  maps.  The  analogy  may  be 
carried  still  further ; just  as  the  river-bed  is  now  wide  and  shal- 
low, now  deep  and  narrow,  here  smooth  and  sandy,  there  rough 
and  rocky,  here  fixed  and  deeply  worn  by  a constant  flow  of 
water,  there  changing  and  shifting  as  the  passing  currents, 
usually  sluggish  and  shallow,  are  suddenly  swelled  to  swift  and 
overflowing  torrents,  just  so  the  nervous  system  in  some  of  its 
[)arts  consists  of  nerve-paths  so  deeply  carved  by  the  mysteri- 
ously working  forces  of  heredity  as  to  offer  no  resistance  to  the 
first  nerve-currents  that  sweep  over  them ; just  so,  in  other  parts, 
the  intra-neural  resistance  seems  so  great  as  to  divert  the  cur- 
rents over  several  simultaneous  paths,  until  one  of  them,  by  fre- 
quent repetition,  becomes  more  deeply  worn  and  thus  forms  the 
basis  of  some  mental  habit.  Again,  just  as  the  topographical 
course  of  the  river-bed  depends  very  largely  upon  the  geological 
formations  through  which  it  passes,  so  the  nervous  system  is 
influenced  by  many  factors  external  to  it,  as  nutrition,  bodily 
growth  and  decay,  periods  of  rest  and  fatigue,  and  even  pois- 
onous substances  introduced  into  the  human  body.  It  is  possi- 
ble to  study  the  river-bed,  after  the  water-currents  have  been 
drained  into  different  channels  or  the  spring  itself  has  dried  up ; 
likewise  the  anatomist  can  examine  the  nervous  tissues  after 
death,  when  all  mental  life  has  ceased. 


Randolpii-^Iacon  AVoman’s  College 


o 


It  is  even  possible  to  submit  individual  drops  of  water,  taken 
from  the  running  stream,  to  microscopical  and  chemical  analy- 
sis ; but  no  such  methods  will  avail  to  study  the  currents  of  water 
themselves,  nor  is  it  possible  to  discover  subconscious  tendencies 
and  dispositions  by  experiments  in  bio-chemistry  or  psycho- 
physics or  even  by  mental  tests.  AVe  need  instead  new  methods 
and  sounding  instruments  of  an  entirely  different  kind.  To  deny 
the  existence  of  these  subconscious  nervous  currents  would  be 
as  absurd  as  to  deny  the  presence  of  the  various  currents  of  water 
familiar  to  every  l)oy  who  has  learnt  to  swim  and  dive  in  the 
river.  If  it  were  possi])le  to  make  visible  the  different  water- 
currents,  perhaps  l)y  coloring  them  in  various  ways,  they  would 
present  a kaleidoscopic  picture  at  once  surprising  and  inter- 
esting. Some  currents  would  be  seen  to  flow  swiftly  along  the 
bottom,  perhaps  diverted  now  and  then  to  the  right  or  left  or 
upward  by  large,  obstructing  rocks,  perhaps  increased  and  en- 
forced here  and  there  by  springs  rising  in  the  river-bed.  Other 
currents  might  follow  more  slowly  the  windings  of  the  river- 
bank,  now  forming  pools  of  standing  water,  now  edged  on  to 
swifter  movement  and  exhausting  their  energy  in  whirling  and 
wildly  foaming  eddies.  Other  currents  again  run  along  the  sur- 
face of  the  water,  easily  impressed  by  all  kinds  of  outside  in- 
fluences, as  winds  and  rain  and  light  and  heat  or  falling  and 
floating  objects.  There  may  be  still  other  currents  farther  below 
the  surface,  depending  partly  upon  the  length,  width,  and  depth 
of  the  river-hed  and  partly  upon  artificial  obstructions  in  the 
general  course  of  the  river  placed  there  either  by  nature  or  by 
human  skill  in  its  efforts  to  utilize  the  forces  of  the  flow. 

Infinitely  more  complex  and  varied  than  this  play  of  the  cur- 
rents in  the  river  are  the  movements  of  the  nervous  undercur- 
rents' in  the  stream  of  mental  life.  Before,  however,  undertak- 
ing to  describe  the  latest  psychological  method  of  studying  them 
and  to  present  the  Freudian  theory  of  psycho-analysis  resulting 
from  it,  a few  words  must  ])e  said  a])out  the  third  aspect  of  men- 
tal life,  consciousness,  which  coi-responds  to  the  vapors  of  hu- 
midity })eginning  to  arise  from  the  surface  of  the  stream  after  it 
has  come  to  the  liglit  of  day,  just  as  consciousness  does  not  ap- 


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pear  until  after  birth.  Until  very  recently,  consciousness  has 
been  the  chief  object  of  psychological  study  and  investigation 
and  has  been  subdivided  in  various  ways.  Some  authors  have 
distinguished  within  it  the  intellectual,  moral,  and  assthetic 
spheres,  others  speak  of  feelings,  will,  and  reason,  while  still 
others  divide  it  into  mental  and  spiritual  life.  One  of  the  rea- 
sons why  consciousness  should  have  absorbed  so  much  of  the 
human  effort  to  fathom  the  depths  of  human  nature  is  the  com- 
parative ease  of  observing  it  by  the  method  of  ‘‘introspection” 
or  “self-observation.”  “Know  thyself”  was  one  of  Socrates’ 
first  maxims,  as  he  wandered  through  the  streets  of  Athens,  more 
than  four  hundred  years  before  Christ,  discussing  and  debating 
with  anyone  who  would  listen  and  reply,  the  deepest  problems 
of  human  knowledge.  How  this  self-knowledge  was  to  be  at- 
tained, Socrates  illustrated  by  his  own  method  and  procedure, 
which  he  called  “the  method  of  intellectual  midwifery.”  It 
consists  chiefly  in  asking  yourself  “searching  questions,”  sub- 
mitting the  answers  to  sharp  criticisms  and  analysis,  and  draw- 
ing valid  inferences  and  conclusions  from  the  verified  facts  ob- 
tained by  self -observation.  For  twenty-three  hundred  years  this 
method  had  been  applied  more  or  less  rigorously  by  philosophers 
and  psychologists  of  various  nations  to  the  third  aspect  of  men- 
tal life.  Not  until  the  middle  of  the  last  century  was  the  problem 
extended  to  the  subconscious  layers  of  the  human  mind;  the 
pioneers  in  this  effort  were  several  French  psychologists,  as  Dr. 
Charcot  of  the  Saltpetriere  and  Drs.  Bernheim  and  Liebault  of 
Nancy.  Their  chief  method  of  studying  the  subconscious  cur- 
rents of  mental  life  was  that  of  hypnotism,  and  they  succeeded 
in  treating  many  cases  of  hysteria  and  simpler  mental  aberra- 
tions. Their  success  attracted  a great  many  medical  students 
from  all  over  Europe,  and  amongst  them  was  a young  physician 
from  Vienna,  Dr.  Sigmund  Freud,  who  later  was  to  become  the 
author  of  the  psycho-analytic  method  and  theory. 

When  Freud  returned  to  Austria  about  1880,  an  older  friend 
and  colleague  of  his.  Dr.  E.  Breuer,  related  to  him  the  history 
of  a peculiar  case  of  hysteria  that  had  come  to  him  for  treat- 
ment, which  ran  as  follows: 


Randolph-]\Iacon  Woman  College 


About  twelve  years  ago  the  patient,  then  a little  Austrian  girl, 
had  a very  distressing  experience.  She  had  an  English  governess 
whom  she  disliked  and  whose  little  lap-dog  she  despised.  Oup 
day  the  girl  entered  the  room  of  the  governess  and  found  the 
little  dog  on  a table  drinking  water  from  a tumbler.  The  girl 
was  horrified,  stood  motionless  for  a moment,  and  then  left  the 
room  not  saying  a word  about  this  event  to  anybody;  in  fact, 
she  soon  forgot  it.  A few  years  later  her  mother  died  and  she 
kept  house  for  her  father,  whom  she  dearly  loved.  The  father 
later  became  seriously  ill,  and  she  nursed  him  day  and  night, 
but  he  finally  died  when  she  was  about  twenty  years  old.  One 
day  during  the  last  few  weeks  of  his  sickness,  as  she  was  sitting 
at  his  bedside,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  he  suddenly  asked  her  what 
time  it  was.  She  tried  to  suppress  her  tears  which  blinded  her 
and  to  conceal  them  from  him,  and  for  that  purpose  she  raised 
the  watch  so  close  to  her  eyes  that  the  dial  appeared  very  large 
and  distorted.  At  another  occasion,  one  night  while  waiting  for 
the  surgeon  who  was  coming  from  Vienna  to  operate  on  her 
father,  she  fell  asleep  from  exhaustion,  her  arm  hanging  over 
the  back  of  the  chair.  She  had  a dream  that  a black  snake  came 
out  of  the  wall  and  crept  toward  the  bed.  She  tried  to  frighten 
the  snake  away,  but  as  the  arm  had  gone  asleep  she  could  not 
move  it,  and  looking  at  her  fingers  she  saw  them  transformed  into 
little  snakes.  She  was  terrified,  awoke  and  tried  to  pray,  but 
could  utter  only  a few  English  sentences  which  were  scraps  of 
old  nursery  rhymes.  From  that  moment  she  had  lost  her  mother- 
tongue  and  could  think  and  speak  only  in  English.  At  the  same 
time  other  symptoms  of  hysteria  developed,  such  as  a severe  par- 
alysis of  the  right  arm,  strabism  or  disturbance  of  eye-move- 
ments, a loss  of  power  to  drink  water,  complete  loss  of  speech  or 
aphasia,  and  temporary  ‘‘states  of  absence.”  Soon  afterwards 
her  father  died  and  she  was  committed  to  the  home  of  the  family 
physician.  Dr.  Brener,  for  observation  and  treatment.  He  diag- 
nosed her  case  as  an  advanced  stage  of  hysteria  and  tried  hyp- 
notic treatment,  but  without  success.  However,  he  noticed  that 
in  her  states  of  absence  she  mumbled  strange,  disconnected  words 
to  herself.  He  made  a careful  and  complete  list  of  them  and 


8 


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tried  to  have  her  explain  them  during  her  normal  states.  This 
gradually  led  her  to  relate,  at  first  piece-meal  and  with  many 
gaps  and  hesitations,  the  various  events  of  her  past  life  that  have 
just  been  enumerated.  A¥ith  this  help  and  constant  encourage- 
ment she  reconstructed  these  past  experiences  from  memory  one 
by  one  and  felt  very  much  relieved  by  it,  until  finally  her  hysteric 
symptoms  failed  to  recur  and  she  was  completely  cured. 

Dr.  Brener  did  not  realize  at  first  the  full  significance  of  his 
treatment,  which  his  patient  had  called  the  '‘talking  cure,”  hnt 
in  co-operation  with  Dr.  Freud  the  method  was  applied  to  other 
cases  and  refined  and  its  underlying  principles  worked  out  to 
some  extent.  Briefly  stated  they  are  the  following : Hj^steria 
and  similar  temporary  mental  disorders  may  be  cured  by  guiding 
the  patient’s  attention  to  the  scenes  during  which  the  morbid 
symptoms  had  made  their  first  appearance,  by  living  these  scenes 
over  again  in  a state  of  high  emotional  tension  leading  to  a 
natural  expression  of  the  re-instated  earlier  emotion  which  had 
been  suppressed  and  usually  completely  forgotten,  ])ut  which  had 
Avorked  subconsciously  and  had  caused  the  morbid  symptoms. 
Let  us  illustrate  these  principles  Avith  the  case  of  the  little  Aus- 
trian girl,  in  order  to  emphasize  their  significance. 

Recall  first,  then,  her  sight  of  the  despised  dog  drinking  from 
a tumbler.  She  suppressed  her  emotional  disgust,  perhaps  be- 
cause of  some  conventional  regard  for  others.  This  emotional 
experience,  although  seemingly  forgotten,  found  a snliconscions 
outlet,  at  a time  AARen  she  Avas  physically  and  mentally  exhausted, 
in  the  inability  to  drink  Avater.  When  this  memory  Avas  re- 
instated and  alloAved  to  express  itself  in  a natural  Avay,  the  ina- 
bility disappeared,  liecanse  there  Avas  no  further  need  for  a sid)- 
conscious  outlet.  It  aaus  similar  Avith  all  her  other  symptoms. 
The  difficulty  consists  in  calling  the  patient’s  attention  to  these 
forgotten  experiences ; Avith  this  particular  patient  the  clues  to 
these  forgotten  ex]Aeriences  or  "emotional  complexes”  AA’ere  fur- 
nished ])y  her  mumbled  Avords,  AAdiich  Avere  used  as  the  basis  for 
her  efforts  to  recall  the  suppressed  emotions,  they  AA^ere  the  keys 
to  her  subconscious  tendencies.  For  seA^eral  years  Brener  and 
Freud  collaborated  and  searched  for  neAv  Avays  of  tapping  the 


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9 


subconscious  in  order  to  remove  thereby  the  distur])iug  causes 
of  the  mor])id  symptoms.  These  efforts  meant  a constant  soinul- 
ing  of  a person’s  past  experiences,  either  l)y  the  talking  cure,  or 
by  association  reactions,  or  by  telling  of  dreams,  or  watching  for 
one’s  errors  and  slips  of  the  tongue  and  pen,  and  even  in  one’s 
witticisms.  In  these  studies  of  a person’s  past  mental  life  Freud 
believed  to  have  discovered  that  sexual  elements  played  an  enor- 
mously important  role,  although  in  this  Brener  could  not  agree 
with  him,  and  the  two  finally  separated. 

From  now  on  Freud’s  work  can  l)e  viewed  partly  as  a search 
for  sources  or  approaches  to  the  subconscious  tendencies  and 
partly  as  a search  for  the  fundamental  laws  which  underlie  their 
hidden  activities.  Of  these  two  problems  the  latter  is  perhaps 
the  more  important.  In  both  attempts  Freud  has  been  ably  sup- 
ported by  other  students  of  human  nature,  not  only  in  his  own 
country,  but  everywhere,  and  especially  among  psychiatrists  and 
physicians  in  the  United  States.  Among  the  leaders  of  this  whole 
psycho-analytic  movement  we  may  mention  C.  G.  Jung  in  Zurich, 
S.  Ferenczi  in  Budapest,  E.  E.  Jones  in  Toronto,  A.  Adler  and 
S.  E.  Jeliffe  in  New  York,  G.  S.  Hall  of  Clark  University,  Mor- 
ton Prince  and  J.  J.  Putnam  of  Harvard,  and  E.  J.  Kempf  and 
W.  A.  White  of  Washington,  To  be  sure,  many  of  these  discii)les 
do  not  agree  with  the  master  in  every  respect,  but  the  differences 
are  not  usually  matters  of  fact  but  questions  of  interpretation 
of  the  facts.  Instead  of  trying  to  disentangle  their  various  views, 
I shall  confine  myself  as  closely  as  possible  to  Freud’s  own  views, 
digressing  only  where  other  authors  have  made  important  addi- 
tions or  given  fuller  explanations  of  certain  phenomena. 

According  to  Freud  our  whole  conscious  life  is  shot  through 
and  through  with  manifestations  of  the  subconscions,  if  we  are 
only  willing  to  search  for  them.  Frend  himself  has  made  his 
most  detailed  studies  along  four  lines,  namely  dreams,  wit,  slips 
of  the  tongue  and  pen,  and  other  erroneous  actions  of  everyday 
life.  His  most  brilliant  disciple,  C.  G.  Jung,  has  added  to  this 
the  only  experimental  method  used  ])y  psycho-analysts,  namely 
the  method  of  free  associations  and  association-reactions,  wliile 
other  discijJes  have  su])jected  artistic  prodnctions  and  especially 


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Bulletin 


literary  works  to  psycho-analytical  examinations  and  interpre- 
tations. 

There  is  one  great  difficulty  with  all  attempts  to  fathom  and 
understand  the  subconscious  springs  and  currents,  that  is,  they 
all  depend  upon  our  own  way  of  interpreting  certain  events  of 
our  conscious  life ; thus  all  the  psycho-analytic  methods  involve 
much  more  interpretation  than  observation.  If  one  is  willing  to 
accept  Freud’s  interpretations  of  our  dreams  or  of  our  slips  of 
the  tongue  and  of  the  pen  or  of  our  other  errors,  or  if  one  agrees 
with  Jung’s  interpretation  of  the  association-reaction  experi- 
ments or  with  the  interpretations  of  art  and  literature  by  other 
psycho-analysts,  then  the  subconscious  will  appear  as  the  source 
and  main  spring  of  his  whole  mental  life.  It  has  been  likened 
to  the  ice-berg  which  proceeds  on  its  voyage  regardless  of  the 
direction  of  the  wind.  Most  of  the  ice-berg  is  hidden  under  the 
surface,  and  it  is  by  powerful  currents,  invisible  to  the  casual 
observer,  that  the  mass  of  floating  ice  is  driven  irresistibly  to- 
wards its  goal.  However,  it  seems  that  Freud’s  interpretations 
are  largely  influenced  by  his  pre-conceived  notions  and  ideas 
about  the  subconscious,  and  once  having  formulated  his  theory 
of  the  nature  of  the  subconscious,  it  is  not  difficult  to  make  all 
his  interpretations  conform  with  his  theory.  On  the  other  hand, 
it  must  not  be  understood  that  his  theory  is  without  a factual 
basis.  Indeed,  many  of  his  crucial  conceptions  about  the  sub- 
conscious Freud  has  derived  from  a comparative  study  and  de- 
tailed analysis  of  hundreds,  perhaps  even  thousands  of  dreams, 
which  he  regards  as  the  royal  road  to  a knowledge  of  the  sub- 
conscious ; dreams,  he  says,  are  the  language  or  symbols  of  the 
subconscious,  but  as  this  language  needs  translation  into  the 
terms  of  the  conscious,  Freud  has  devoted  his  greatest  efforts  to 
this  task,  and  we  will  be  able  to  present  and  understand  his 
system  more  readily  if  we  begin  with  his  theory  of  dreams. 

The  first  thing  to  be  realized  about  dreams,  according  to  Freud, 
is  that  the  dream  as  merely  remembered  in  the  morning  does  not 
say  what  it  means  or  mean  what  it  says.  The  dream  as  remem- 
bered is  only  the  manifest  conteyit  which  is  very  different  from 
the  underlying  subconscious  thoughts  of  the  dreamer  which  con- 


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stitue  the  latent  content.  The  manifest  content  is  illogical,  con- 
fused, fragmentary,  and  distorted,  while  the  latent  content  is 
orderly,  connected,  logical,  and  complete;  bnt  it  has  disguised 
itself  and  become  unrecognizable  in  order  not  to  disturb  the 
dreamer’s  sleep.  As  Freud  says,  our  dreams  are  censored  before 
they  are  permitted  to  see  the  light  of  consciousness.  Who  the 
censor  is  we  shall  learn  later.  The  disguising  of  the  latent 
dream  thoughts  involves  four  different  kinds  of  processes  or 
hidden  currents:  condensation,  displacement,  dramitisation,  and 
secondary  elaboration,  which  we  must  study  a little  more  in 
detail. 

First,  condensation.  Most  of  our  dreams  are  very  short,  they 
last  a few  seconds  only.  Nevertheless  they  give  us  the  impres- 
sion of  having  taken  a long  time  because  of  this  element  of  con- 
densation. This  is  accomplished,  for  instance,  by  fusing  the 
parts  of  widely  separated  localities  into  a single  scene,  so  that 
we  believe  we  have  been  in  all  these  different  localities  one  after 
another,  instead  of  having  seen  them  in  a single  picture.  In  a 
like  manner  events  of  different  periods  are  amalgamated  into  one 
event  by  adding  together  the  essential  parts  of  each.  Sometimes 
elements  from  different  persons  are  fused  into  a single  indi- 
vidual, a sort  of  compound  photograph  containing,  for  example, 
the  face  of  one,  the  body  of  another,  the  walk  of  a third,  and  the 
like ; even  the  two  sexes  may  thus  be  mixed  up,  and  real  persons 
are  combined  with  parts  of  photographs  of  other  people.  An- 
other kind  of  condensation  is  that  of  words,  names  or  puns.  For 
example,  one  man  dreamed  he  saw  on  the  table  a book  with  the- 
title  ‘ ‘ Bragmatism  ” and  under  it  the  name  of  a friend  who  was. 
writing  a book  on  Pragmatism  and  was  bragging  about  it.  The 
substitution  of  the  B for  the  P expressed  the  dreamer’s  real 
attitude  toward  his  friend  which  he  was  too  polite  to  manifest 
in  w^aking  life. 

Second,  displacement.  This  is  one  of  the  chief  means  of  pro- 
ducing distortions  and  disfigurement.  It  enables  the  Censor  to 
change  important  subconscious  thoughts  into  something  insig- 
nificant, or  to  conceal  the  true  cause  or  meaning  of  the  dream. 
For  example,  a young  physician  of  very  moderate  means  dreamt 


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that  he  had  made  out  his  income  tax  and  that  the  tax-commis- 
sioner had  contested  it  as  too  low,  thus  concealing  the  dreamer’s 
subconscious  wish  that  he  were  a famous  physician  of  large 
income.  The  most  extensive  form  of  displacement,  according 
to  Freud,  occurs  in  connection  with  the  sexual  elements;  here 
the  symbols  of  the  dream  language  are  very  elaborate  and  com- 
plex. 

Third,  (h'ainatizatio}i.  It  is  a well-known  fact  that  the  dreamer 
is  usually  an  actor  in  his  own  dreams,  he  hardly  ever  plays  the 
role  of  a ])assive  onlooker  only.  Sometimes  a person  may  see 
himself  as  a participant  in  the  scenes  before  his  own  eyes.  The 
actions  themselves  are  -of  the  most  phantastic  and  often  impos- 
sible kind,  as  floating  down  the  stairs  without  touching  the  steps, 
or  skating  on  the  open  river,  and  they  come  more  or  less  in  single 
file  series,  that  is,  one  thing  at  a time  quickly  shifting  to  some- 
thing else.  Further  illustrations  seem  superfluous. 

Fourth,  secondarij  eIabomtio)L  This  process  includes  really 
a number  of  miscellaneous  transformations  that  cannot  be  clas- 
sified under  the  previous  items.  It  also  rejiresents  more  the 
mechanism  of  the  subconscious  thoughts  rather  than  the  thoughts 
themselves ; it  therefore  enters  also  in  the  conscious  process  of 
reconstructing  the  dream  in  waking  life.  Frequently  it  tries  to 
make  sense  and  connection  between  disconnected  fragments  of 
the  manifest  content,  or  it  tries  to  justify  the  dream  in  the  eyes 
of  the  dreamer.  Sometimes  it  makes  use  of  the  dream  within 
the  dream,  as  when  a dreamer  says  to  himself  in  sleep:  ‘'Why, 
it’s  all  a dream.”  Secondary  elaboration  is  also  present  in  the 
transformation  of  such  external  stimuli  as  may  have  initiated 
tlie  dream,  for  example,  a noise,  or  a flash  of  light,  or  a draft 
of  cool  air,  etc. ; these  elements  are  usually  incorporated  into  the 
dreams  after  first  having  been  changed  so  as  to  fit  into  the  whole 
setting. 

Perhaps  the  most  important  and  most  fre(iuent  form  of  sec- 
ondary elal)oration  occurs  in  the  use  of  symbols  in  dreams.  This 
appeal  to  symliolism  in  dreams  is  perhaps  the  most  objectional)le 
feature  in  Freud’s  whole  system,  and  he  seems  to  sense  the  diffi- 
culty and  anticipate  objections  l)y  an  ela))orate  argument  in 


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justification  of  their  use  and  usefulness.  lie  says,  for  instance, 
that  we  use  syin})ols  in  our  daily  life  all  the  time,  frecjuently 
without  even  knowing  their  meaning,  or  rather,  the  meaning  has 
been  lost  or  forgotten  by  intervening  generations;  for  exami)le, 
how  many  people  know  the  real  meaning  of  the  Christmas  tree 
or  of  the  custom  of  throwing  rice  and  old  shoes  at  the  depart- 
ing bride  and  groom?  Our  language  itself  is  full  of  symbols  and 
metaphors ; many  of  them  refer  to  parts  of  the  human  body,  for 
instance,  the  mouth  of  rivers,  the  lap  or  the  bosom  or  the  bowels 
of  the  earth,  the  head  of  the  lake,  a neck  of  land,  the  eyes  in 
the  potatoes.  Religion  also  makes  use  of  many  symbols,  as  the 
cross,  the  triangle,  the  snake  biting  its  tail.  Again  we  use  sym- 
bols when  we  wish  to  simplify  something  difficult  to  understand, 
as  logical  or  mathematical  relations.  The  symbol  always  tries 
to  compare  the  unknown  to  something  known,  as  when  the  In- 
dians of  Central  America  compared  the  horses  of  the  Spaniards 
which  they  had  never  seen  before,  to  giant  pigs,  the  pig  being 
the  one  animal  most  like  a horse  which  they  knew.  Thinking  in 
symbols  is  therefore  a more  primitive,  infantile,  archaic  or  in- 
ferior kind  of  thinking.  The  subconscious  tendencies,  which 
Freud  believes  to  be  much  older  in  animal  life  than  the  con- 
scious experiences,  may  therefore  continue  to  use  some  of  the 
archaic  symbols  which  consciousness  has  long  forgotten.  Brevity 
forbids  us  to  give  a list  of  the  various  kinds  of  symbols  occuri’- 
ing  in  dreams.  Furthermore,  symbols  are  not  absolutely  uni- 
versal, they  may  be  modified  by  the  individual’s  past  experi- 
ences; therefore  it  is  often  necessary  to  work  out  the  meaning 
of  certain  symbols  for  each  individual  on  the  basis  of  several 
dreams.  However,  a few  common  symbols  may  l^e  given  liere 
for  the  sake  of  illustration ; the  human  ])ody  is  represented  in 
dreams  by  such  things  as  a l)uilding,  a cal)in,  a house  or  a church ; 
while  curtains,  draperies,  hangings,  and  the  like  mean  the 
amount  of  clothes  worn ; the  person  of  the  father  is  symbolized  by 
dreaming  of  an  emperor,  king,  governor,  mayor  or  some  similar 
authority,  while  the  mother  is  indicated  by  empress,  queen,  a 
ship,  a tree,  or  a fountain ; birth  is  meant  by  falling  into  water, 
retrieving  objects  from  lakes,  or  swimming;  death  is  represented 


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Bulletin 


by  travelling  by  rail  or  boat  and  by  vanishing ; horses  and  dogs 
symbolize  sexual  union;  grains  stand  for  fecundity;  colors,  pre- 
cious stones,  metals,  flowers  and  numbers  have  the  same  symbolic 
meanings  in  dreams  that  is  ascribed  to  them  in  waking  life. 

The  four  processes  which  we  have  discussed  thus  far  operate, 
it  is  to  be  remembered,  with  the  manifest  dream  contents,  in 
order  to  conceal  real  dream  thoughts  or  the  latent  dream  content. 
What,  then,  is  the  real  meaning  of  our  dreams?  What  are  these 
concealed  and  disguised  dream  thoughts?  The  answer  can  be 
given  in  a few  words : a dream  is  the  subconscious  and  disguised 
fulfilment  of  a repressed  wish,  it  is  the  satisfaction  or  expression 
of  a subconscious  disposition  or  tendency  that  for  one  reason  or 
another  is  not  allowed  to  work  itself  out  or  come  to  the  light  of 
consciousness.  This  is  the  central  point  of  Freud’s  theory  of 
dreams  and  it  is  so  novel  and  seems  so  far-fetched  that  it  has 
given  rise  to  endless  discussions  and  controversies  which  the 
author  of  the  theory  has  tried  to  meet  by  the  following  lines  of 
evidence  and  arguments. 

Some  dreams,  he  says,  are  obviously  wish-fulfilments,  like  the 
following  example  taken  from  the  book  of  the  Northpole  explorer 
Nordenskjold  and  recorded  while  he  and  his  men  were  marooned 
in  a Polar  wilderness,  living  on  preserves  and  daily  straining 
their  eyes  to  catch  sight  of  a passing  sail.  The  men  dreamt  of 
attending  dinner  parties  where  course  after  course  was  served, 
of  the  mailman  bringing  bags  of  mail,  of  mountains  of  tobacco, 
and  of  ships  approaching  under  full  sail.  Or  take  some  of  the 
dreams  told  in  the  Old  Testament:  Jacob’s  dream  of  the  ladder 
and  the  promised  relief,  or  Joseph’s  dream  of  the  twelve  sheaves 
of  wheat  and  then  of  the  sun,  moon  and  eleven  stars  bowing 
before  him.  Again,  Freud  points  out,  the  dreams  of  children  are 
quite  frequently  obvious  wish-fulfilments,  because  children  do 
not  repress  their  thoughts  as  much  as  adults  who  are  much  more 
bound  by  conventionalities,  costumes,  and  ethical  principles. 
How  much  the  wish  itself  enters  even  the  conscious  life  of  child- 
hood may  be  seen  from  the  appeal  that  fairy  tales  have  for  chil- 
dren; take  the  case  of  Aladdin’s  wonderful  lamp,  or  the  fairy 
godmother  in  Cinderella,  or  the  magic  wand,  and  other  examples. 


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The  childhood  of  the  individual  and  the  childhood  of  the  whole 
human  race  are  essentially  alike  in  this  respect  as  in  many  others. 

But  in  order  to  trace  the  wish-element  and  its  disguised  ful- 
filment in  most  of  the  dreams  of  adult  individuals,  Freud  has  to 
resort  to  elaborate  interpretations  by  means  of  the  four  subcon- 
scious mechanisms  mentioned  before  and  by  making  a number  of 
other  hypotheses,  such  as  the  following: 

1.  It  is  not  necessary  that  the  wish  should  be  present  now; 
it  is  sufficient  if  it  existed,  even  temporarily  only,  at  some  re- 
motely early  period  of  the  individual’s  life,  especially  in  early 
childhood. 

2.  All  the  dreams  of  one  night,  when  considered  with  respect 
to  their  latent  content,  are  simply  parts  of  one  unit;  their  sep- 
aration into  several  portions  and  their  grouping  may  have  a 
special  meaning  of  its  own. 

3.  In  trying  to  fulfil  a secret  or  suppressed  wish,  the  sub- 
conscious is  constantly  hampered  by  what  Freud  calls  the  Censor, 
which  distorts  the  dream  thoughts. 

4.  The  Censor  being  unable  to  prevent  the  wish  from  being 
fulfilled  in  the  dream,  transforms  the  wish  and  its  satisfaction 
into  symbols  which  are  not  understood  by  the  consciousness  of 
the  dreamer. 

5.  The  reason  why  we  forget  our  dreams  and  sometimes 
imagine  that  we  never  dream  is  probably  the  same  reason  which 
causes  us  to  forget  the  unpleasant  events  of  our  conscious  life. 
Sometimes,  however,  the  Censor  suppresses  our  memory  of 
dreams.  The  disconnected  character  of  dreams  resembles  the 
rambling  talk  of  delirious  patients  whose  words  are  also  discon- 
nected ; but  a knowledge  of  the  history  of  such  a patient  enables 
the  doctor  to  fill  in  the  gaps. 

6.  It  must  be  remembered  that  in  our  normal  waking  state 
wishes  or  desires  or  cravings  have  often  a prominent  part ; there- 
fore it  is  not  surprising  to  find  wishes  enter  into  our  dreams, 
because  many  other  experiences,  especially  those  of  the  day  pre- 
ceding the  dream,  also  enter  into  our  dreams  and  we  do  not  find 
anything  unusual  in  this  fact.  Indeed,  whenever  we  do  any- 


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thing  with  a purpose  or  an  end  in  view,  we  are  really  antici- 
pating its  completion  or  fulfilment.  The  term  “wish’’  should 
l)e  used  then  in  the  broader  sense  of  denoting  all  kinds  of  desires, 
hopes,  strivings,  or  ambitions.  If  such  wishes  cannot  be  fulfilled 
in  waking  life,  perhaps  because  of  insurmountable  physical  ob- 
stacles, or  because  of  mental  oiistructions,  such  as  social  conven- 
tionalities or  moral  considerations  and  the  like,  they  will  find  a 
subconscious  outlet  or  satisfaction  in  dreams.  But  if  this  is  suc- 
cessfully prevented  iiy  the  Censor,  then  the  subconscious  ten- 
dencies will  not  rest,  but  try  to  come  to  consciousness  in  some 
other  forms,  as  errors  of  the  tongue  or  pen,  or  other  erroneous 
actions,  and  finally  even  as  morbid  symptoms  of  hysteria  and 
similar  temporary  mental  disturbances. 

In  this  connection  it  becomes  necessary  to  explain  what  Freud 
means  by  the  censorship  which  he  says  works  subconsciously  in 
everybody.  In  attempting  this  explanation  it  is  advisable  to  go 
somewhat  iieyond  Freud’s  own  theory,  which  in  this  respect  is 
not  very  satisfactory,  and  refer  to  supplements  added  liy  some 
of  his  disciples. 

Corresponding  to  the  force  of  gravity  which  makes  the  river 
find  its  way  toward  the  low  shores  of  the  ocean,  there  seems  to 
lie  some  force  operating  in  man  which  we  might  call  with  Bergson 
the  “elan  vital”  or  “vital  urge,”  or  with  Bernard  Shaw  the 
“vital  force,”  or  with  Schopenhauer  the  “will  to  live,”  because 
it  is  a subconscious  striving  or  impulse  to  persist,  an  instinc- 
tive tendency  to  self-preservation.  This  force  operates  in  three 
directions : 1.  In  order  to  live  man  must  be  fed,  and  hence  we 
may  speak  of  a ‘‘nutrition  \irge” ; 2.  ]\Ian  is  impelled  liy  this 
vital  force  to  perpetuate  his  species,  and  this  may  be  called  the 
“sex  urge"';  and  3.  iMan  must  avoid  encounters  with  harmful 
stimuli,  and  this  has  been  called  the  “safety  urge.” 

The  normal  satisfaction  of  these  three  urges  is  accompanied 
by  a conscious  state  of  pleasantness  or  at  least  of  well-being, 
while  their  denial  arouses  the  feeling  of  displeasure  and  discom- 
fort. The  nutrition  urge,  present  in  all  animals,  became  highly 
developed  in  man,  awakening  a desire  to  control  his  environment 
from  which  he  derived  his  food-supply.  Thus  man  developed 


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a “ will-to-power  ” which  has  become  the  source  of  all  egotism 
and  of  the  strivings  for  higher  self-realization,  in  fact,  the  ulti- 
mate cause  of  his  progress  to  higher  stages  of  civilization.  At 
present,  with  the  comparative  ease  of  food-getting  in  our  modern 
civilization^  the  nutrition  urge  might  he  called  more  appropri- 
ately the  power  urge  or  the  ego  urge ; however,  the  slightest  cause 
endangering  the  food-supply  of  individuals  or  of  whole  nations 
will  almost  instantly  reveal  the  close  relation  between  the  archaic 
form  of  the  nutrition  urge  and  the  modern  form  of  the  power 
urge,  as  has  been  amply  illustrated  in  the  late  war.  The  sex 
urge  has  been  called  by  Freud  the  ‘libido”;  but  again  it  must 
be  kept  in  mind  that  Freud  uses  the  term  sex  in  a much  wider 
sense,  including  under  it,  for  instance,  all  functions  of  excretion 
as  well  as  various  secondary  activities. 

The  safety  urge  is  so  vitally  important  that  whenever  it  ap- 
pears to  be  deficient  in  an  individual,  that  individual  is  taken  in 
hand  by  the  social  group  of  which  he  is  a member,  and  he  is 
either  restrained  by  appointed  guardians  or  he  is  lodged  in  some 
institution,  and  he  loses  all  legal  responsibility  for  his  conduct. 
The  only  time  in  our  life  when  all  these  urges  are  perfectly  sat- 
isfied is  before  birth,  when  the  mother’s  body  supplies  all  wants 
and  gives  complete  protection.  Soon  after  birth  environment 
will  produce  restrictions  after  restrictions.  The  urges  now  may 
come  to  consciousness  in  the  form  of  wishes  and  desires,  and  at 
first  they  are  very  simple  and  readily  complied  with.  But  as 
the  child  growls  older,  its  wishes  and  desires  come  into  conflict 
with  those  of  other  human  beings  and  now  some  wishes  have  to 
be  modified  or  else  they  cannot  be  fulfilled  at  all,  and  repression 
begins.  These  repressions  are  the  more  painful  the  more  the 
child  had  at  first  been  humored  by  its  parents.  The  child  dis- 
covers that  a good  many  things  the  baby  is  allowed  to  do  or  have 
the  child  no  longer  is  allowed.  Thus  one  of  the  great  tasks  of 
childhood  is  the  repression  of  all  the  elements  which  are  either 
useless  or  harmful  or  undesirable  from  the  point  of  view  of  its 
social  group.  Hence  a little  girl,  when  a stranger  asked  her 
what  her  mother  called  her,  innocently  replied:  “Henrietta 
Don’t-do-that,”  and  another  mother  had  developed  the  habit 


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of  calling,  whenever  the  noise  of  her  children  at  play  in  the 
adjoining  room  became  subdued,  “Johnnie,  stop  your  nonsense.” 

The  successful  suppression  of  these  undesirable  desires,  especi- 
ally of  the  sex  urge  and  the  ego  urge  frequently  protect  the  in- 
dividual from  harmful  consequences ; thus  suppression  plays  into 
the  hands  of  the  safety  urge.  The  latter  acts  at  first  blindly, 
instinctively,  subconsciously;  but  in  the  course  of  time  it  adopts 
the  means  of  successful  suppression  for  its  own  ends  and  thus 
develops  into  the  Censor  that  constantly  guards  us  against  all 
those  tendencies  and  impulses  which,  if  satisfied,  would  decrease 
our  food-supply,  or  risk  our  physical  safety,  or  injure  our  will- 
to-power,  or  endanger  our  social  standing,  or  lower  our  sense  of 
superiority,  or  hurt  us  in  any  way  whatever.  In  other  words,  the 
safety  urge  comes  into  conflict  with  the  sex  urge  and  the  ego 
urge,  and  often  the  struggle  between  them  is  very  painful.  Dur- 
ing sleep,  especially,  the  safety  urge  is  least  powerful,  so  that 
now  the  other  two  often  may  gain  the  upper  hand.  Under  such 
conditions  the  safety  urge,  while  it  cannot  entirely  prevent  the 
other  urges  from  manifesting  and  satisfying  themselves,  will  do 
its  best  to  disguise  these  manifestations  to  such  an  extent  as  to 
make  them  unintelligible  to  our  subsequent  conscious  or  waking 
states,  thus  protecting  the  individual  against  himself,  at  least 
against  his  lower  self.  Most  of  these  • subconscious  subterfuges 
of  the  safety  urge  are  developed  during  childhood  and  adoles- 
cence, and  in  adult  life  they  experience  alteration  or  additions 
only  when  the  individual  removes  to  some  entirely  new  environ- 
ment which  offers  absolutely  novel  problems  and  situations.  The 
normal  individual,  under  such  conditions,  submits  at  least  in  ap- 
pearance to  the  new  rules  restricting  his  individual  freedom, 
and  he  seeks  compensation  for  his  repressions  in  other  ways 
which  are  either  in  conformity  with  his  new  social  environment 
or  else  are  otherwise  harmless. 

Compensation  is  therefore  another  important  aspect  of  Freud ’s 
theory.  The  form  of  compensation  which  an  individual  will  seek 
depends  upon  the  type  of  person  to  which  he  belongs.  The  pro- 
cess of  repression  has  produced  two  types  of  human  beings,  ac- 
cording to  Freud,  the  introverted  and  the  extroverted  type. 


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The  former  is  a person  who  views  the  world  from  within  and 
considers  always  the  effect  it  has  upon  him.  The  extroverted 
type  of  individual  is  one  whose  interests  flow  outward  and  attach 
themselves  to  objects  and  events  in  the  outer  world  of  reality. 
In  a sense  we  may  therefore  think  of  dreams  as  a kind  of  com- 
pensation for  the  repressions  of  the  urges  during  our  waking 
conscious  states;  at  least  in  our  dream  thoughts  we  know  no 
limitations,  our  freedom  is  absolute,  and  customs  and  ethics  do 
not  bother  us  in  our  latent  dream  contents.  It  is  only  when  the 
latent  contents  try  to  enter  consciousness  that  the  safety  urge 
exercises  its  censorship  in  the  various  ways  which  we  have  briefly 
sketched. 

A few  words  may  now  be  added  about  some  of  the  other  forms 
in  which  the  subconscious  tendencies,  in  particular  the  sex  urge 
and  the  power  or  ego  urge,  try  to  find  satisfaction  in  conscious 
expressions,  although  even  so  only  in  a disguised  way,  because 
of  the  influence  of  the  safety  urge  which  is  still  exercising  its 
censorship.  Among  these  forms  Freud  has  made  a special  study 
of  wit  and  of  the  various  errors  of  everyday  life. 

Wit,  according  to  Freud,  is  not  voluntarily  and  constantly  at 
our  command.  No  one  can  sit  down  and  write  jokes  by  the  hour, 
as  he  would  do  in  composing  an  essay  or  writing  letters.  Nor  can 
we  always  recall  at  will  a series  of  jokes,  when  we  would  need 
them  for  the  sake  of  joviality.  However,  a syllable,  a sound,  a 
gesture,  a peal  of  laughter  or  the  like  may  suddenly  conjure  up 
to  our  memory  a funny  story,  a ‘‘that-reminds-me”  anecdote, 
or  some  witty  saying.  According  to  Freud  there  is  a remarkable 
parallelism  between  dreams  and  wit,  in  that  both  show  the  pro- 
cesses of  condensation  and  displacement.  For  example,  when 
King  Leopold  of  Belgium  became  attentive  to  the  French  dancer 
Cleo,  he  was  nicknamed  ‘^Cleopold”;  De  Quincey  speaks  of  old 
age,  because  of  its  fondness  for  telling  anecdotes,  as  ‘‘anecdo- 
tage,  ” while  another  writer  calls  European  Sundays,  ‘‘alco- 
holidays.  ” As  an  example  of  displacement  take  the  following 
story:  two  Jewish  gentlemen  met  near  a bathing  establishment. 
‘‘Have  you  taken  a bath?”  asked  the  first.  “How  is  that?  Is 
one  missing?”  replied  the  other.  Here  the  displacement  of  the 


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emphasis  from  the  word  ‘‘bath”  to  the  word  “taken”  and  the 
double  meaning  of  the  latter  constitute  the  main  element  of  this 
joke ; besides,  this  joke  refers  also  to  two  characteristic  traits 
frequently  attrilmted  to  European  members  of  the  Jewish  people. 
Secondary  elaboration  present  in  wit  is  of  a somewhat  different 
nature  from  that  in  dreams,  due  to  linguistic  limitations.  The 
questions:  Why  do  we  invent  jokes  and  why  do  we  laugh  at 
them  ? Freud  answers  thus : wit  is  a shortcut  to  freedom  from 
many  restrictions.  He  says  that  children  discover  at  an  early 
age  that  they  can  do  many  otherwise  forbidden  things  if  they 
succeed  in  making  their  parents  or  teachers  laugh,  for  a smiling 
person  need  no  longer  be  feared  as  a disciplinarian.  So  in  jest 
we  may  say  many  truths  which  otherwise  would  be  resented  by 
our  hearers,  as  is  olwious  in  the  case  of  comedies. 

The  chief  difference  between  dreams  and  wit  lies  in  the  fact 
that  the  dreams  are  private,  while  wit  is  a social  affair  which 
depends  for  its  quality  and  effectiveness  upon  the  audience.  A 
joke  about  Christian  Science  amongst  Christian  Science  adher- 
ents would  certainly  fall  flat,  to  say  the  least.  Some  forms  of  wit 
appeal  to  one  sex  more  than  to  the  other.  Wit  must  also  make 
some  demands  upon  our  intelligence : for  instance,  puns  are 
scorned  by  many  people  because  that  is  the  earliest  form  of  wit 
among  children.  The  higher  the  intelligence  of  the  hearers,  the 
more  subtle  must  be  the  wit-mechanism.  A mind  of  the  strictly 
logical  kind  will  enjoy  wit  based  on  faulty  logic.  In  wit,  as  in 
dreams,  the  sex  urge  and  the  ego  urge  are  predominant  and  try- 
ing to  escape  the  censorship  of  the  safety  urge ; in  other  words, 
there  is  always  a dangerous  element  in  witticisms.  The  ego  urge 
usually  manifests  itself  in  lieing  aggressive  and  disparaging  some 
oi)])onent  or  some  oliject  of  which  we  are  really  afraid  or  which 
we  ought  to  respect.  The  burlescpie  always  has  its  fling  at  some 
pompous  personage,  i)resenting  him  in  some  undignified  or  ridic- 
ulous situation.  Finally,  Avit  may  use  also  the  same  kinds  of 
symliols  as  dreams. 

Errors  of  the  tongue,  of  the  pen,  lapses  of  memory,  and  other 
erroneous  actions  of  everyday  life  are  also  manifestations  of  sub- 
conscious tendencies  and  strivings  to  evade  the  Censor  and  find 


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satisfaction  in  conscious  expressions.  According  to  Freud  we 
forget  names  only  when  they  have  some  unpleasant  subconscious 
connotation,  when  they  touch  some  painful  emotional  complex 
of  repression.  We  forget  easily  the  names  of  people  bearing  our 
own  name,  because  our  ego  feels  a certain  loss  of  power  when 
someone  else  assumes  the  most  important  element  of  our  own  per- 
sonality, namely  our  name.  Again,  we  sometimes  feel  a subcon- 
scious hostility  toward  a certain  person  not  because  of  anything 
inimical  in  himself,  but  because  of  his  resemblance  to  some  other 
disliked  person.  We  sometimes  confess  to  an  unexplainable  dis- 
like for  a person  who  to  all  appearances  is  most  amiable ; we  say 
‘‘there  is  something  about  him  which  I don’t  like,”  which  on 
closer  examination  may  turn  out  to  be  some  trifling  matter  like 
a certain  mannerism,  or  the  color  of  his  hair,  the  sound  of  his 
voice,  and  the  like,  which  in  itself  is  not  disliked  hut  which  is 
very  similar  to  the  same  element  in  another  person  who  is  very 
much  disliked  for  some  entirely  different  reason. 

Sli])s  of  the  tongue  are  either  a form  of  wish-fulfilment  or  a 
revelation  of  some  subconscious  and  suppressed  complex.  They 
often  show  the  i)rocess  of  condensation,  as  in  the  following  case. 
Somebody  tried  to  recite  the  couplet 

“The  ape  he  is  a funny  sight 
When  in  the  apple  he  takes  a bite”  • 

and  ])egan  l)y  saying:  “The  apel  is  a funny  sight.”  A secret 
wish  is  revealed  in  the  following  slip  of  the  tongue : a physician 
was  asked  whether  he  could  ].)eneflt  a certain  patient  by  psycho- 
analytic treatment  and  responded  that  he  thought  he  could  in 
time  remove  all  symptoms  because  it  seemed  to  him  a durable 
case,  meaning  of  course  “curable.”  Speech  blunders  are  not 
unknown  in  literature  and  are  used  for  the  very  same  reasons 
as  those  of  everyday  life.  Freud  quotes  an  example  from  the 
iVIerchant  of  Venice.  Portia,  it  will  be  remembered,  was  bound 
])y  the  will  of  her  father  to  select  a husband  through  a lottery. 
By  a lucky  chance  she  had  escaped  all  distasteful  suitors;  but 
wlien  Bassanio  appears  she  is  afraid  that  he,  too,  will  draw  the 
unlucky  lottery.  She  dare  not  tell  him  her  feelings,  but  Shake- 


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spear  reveals  her  inner  conflict  in  letting  her  make  the  following 
mistake : 

‘‘one  half  of  me  is  yours, 

The  other  half  yours — ]\Iine  own,  I would  say.” 

Similar  in  nature  are  the  errors  in  reading:  for  example,  the 
statement  in  a letter  “Poor  Dr.  W.  H.  will  not  recover  from  his 
illness”  was  misread  “Poor  Mrs.  W.  II.  will  not  recover,”  be- 
cause a lady  with  the  same  initials  had  the  same  disease.  Errors 
of  the  pen  are  either  errors  of  omission  or  of  condensation.  For 
instance,  a politician  had  sent  a eulogy  to  a newspaper  in  which 
occurred  the  following  error:  “Fortunately  for  Connecticut, 

J II is  no  longer  a member  of  Congress.”  The  writer 

made  much  ado  about  the  printer’s  error,  but  when  the  original 
letter  was  examined  it  was  found  that  the  writer  himself  had 
made  the  error.  Again  the  ego  urge  and  the  sex  urge  are  in- 
volved in  many  errors  of  this  kind.  The  most  frequent  kinds  of 
erroneous  actions  of  everyday  life  are  such  as  mislaying  or  losing 
objects,  forgetting  to  do  something  for  some  one  else,  calling  per- 
sons by  wrong  names,  especially  married  ladies  by  their  maiden 
names,  leaving  keys  in  the  door,  losing  a member  of  a pair  of 
articles  of  wear,  and  others.  Here  again  Freud  maintains  that 
our  suppressed  or  subconscious  tendencies  try  to  affirm  their 
existence  or  to  evade  the  censorship  by  seeking  outlets  into  con- 
sciousness in  these  disguised  forms.  Works  of  art  and  literature 
are  likewise  interpreted  as  compensations  for  the  repression  of 
all  those  impulses  that  civilization,  education,  society,  morality, 
in  short,  the  Censor  or  safety  urge,  decree  as  undesirable. 

Whether  psychology  will  ultimately  come  to  agree  with 
Freud’s  interpretation  of  all  these  experiences  and  accept  his 
theory  of  the  subconscious  springs  and  currents  of  mental  life  is 
impossible  to  predict.  On  the  one  hand  his  work  and  system  has 
been  subjected  to  many  sharp  and  just  criticisms,  and  on  the 
other  hand  he  has  found  many  ardent  supporters  in  every  coun- 
try. The  chief  merit  of  his  whole  work  lies  in  the  fact  that  he 
has  called  attention  to  the  most  neglected  aspect  of  our  mental 
life  and  has  developed  a number  of  methods  of  approaching  the 


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subconscious.  As  soon  as  the  difficulty  of  unverifiable  and  sid)- 
jective  interpretation  can  ])e  overcome  or  eliminated  from  his 
work,  it  will  he  possible  to  subject  his  theory  to  the  only  reliable 
test  of  scientific  research,  objective  observation  and  experiment. 
Until  then  psychologists  will  do  best  to  suspend  judgment  regard- 
ing the  scientific  value  of  Freudian  psycho-analysis. 


